


Observational Truth

by Regionalpancake



Category: Star Trek: Picard
Genre: Crew as Family, Elnor is an artist, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Raffi is a hopeless chaotic queer disaster, Romance, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23842516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regionalpancake/pseuds/Regionalpancake
Summary: Elnor is a trained artist in the Qowat Milat tradition. His drawings show the crew as they truly are, revealing more than a few secrets about the residents of La Sirena to Raffi... particularly when it comes to Seven.
Relationships: Agnes Jurati/Cristóbal Rios, Elnor & Raffi Musiker, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Raffi Musiker & Cristóbal Rios, Raffi Musiker/Seven of Nine
Comments: 26
Kudos: 99





	Observational Truth

Raffi sighed and took another sip of coffee, the steam drifting lazily past her face and up into the space above the mess.

It had been weeks now since they’d saved the synths. Weeks since all that action, the adrenaline, the fear and the relief. That day had been so terrifying. So thrilling too. She’d not felt that alive in a long time.

Especially since…

She looked across the mess table at the empty seat where Seven had sat. Raffi had replayed that moment over and over again in her mind. They’d drank, looked into each others eyes. _There was something there, a knowing look, a spark maybe?_ Seven lacing her fingers with Raffi’s own, a fingertip tenderly, _oh god so tenderly_ , brushing the back of her knuckles.

Raffi felt a shiver remembering it. She shifted in her seat.

And after that moment? That meeting of hands, of eyes, there had been… nothing.

Back to just crew mates.

What a bitter anticlimax.

Especially since Cris was practically _skipping_ around the ship in between shifts. She didn’t resent him of course. She was happy her oldest friend was happy, even if he was a little insufferable, it was sweet he had someone. Agnes was turning out to be a welcome friend too now that Emil was giving her the help she’d so badly needed. Raffi’s suspicion of the doctor had morphed through pity and out the other side into a respect for what the little cyberneticist had battled through. Raffi felt a tentative new friendship on the horizon there.

“Good morning,” Seven said as the replicator sketched the glowing outline of her coffee, the warm scent heralding it’s completion.

“Morning,” Raffi said turning and smiling, but Seven was already looking away retrieving her drink.

“Enjoy your breakfast,” the xB said simply, heading back up to the bridge with her coffee.

_Had she imagined it before? There had been something there, right? Did she say something wrong? Was there something she didn’t say? Something she didn’t do?_

_First time anyone had shown a hint of interest in her in close to a decade and she'd blown it. Typical._

She sighed.

She sipped her coffee again. Closed her eyes and allowed herself to daydream about kissing Seven, would she taste of that coffee? Bitter, warm, silky…

“Raffi!”

She shook her head, looking for the source of the sound,

“Up here!”

Raffi looked up to see Cris leaning on the railing.

“Seriously, Raffi, you can’t possibly be enjoying your coffee that much. I’ve been shouting you for ages.”

“Piss off, Cris, it’s early,” she grumbled.

“Not _that_ early, my friend, you’re just really out of it this morning. Here,” giving her a second to put down her coffee, he threw her a PADD. “This is a list of Romulan dignitaries Picard needs sweet-talking before next week.”

“Next week?!”

“Hey, he’s your beloved admiral, Raf, not mine!”

She rolled her eyes.

“I thought you could look over the list with Elnor? There’s a few religious figureheads on there, I figured he might know one or two?” His words trailed off into a yawn, he stretched, back stiff from a long shift at the conn. “I’ve got some sleep to catch up on.”

“Say hi to Agnes for me,” Raffi teased.

“Sleeping Raffi. I mean it. Don’t bother me.”

“Sure Cris,” she sipped his coffee “sweet dreams.”

Rios pushed himself off the railing and made his way to his quarters, shaking his head and smiling.

* * *

“Elnor?” Raffi said against the console outside the Romulan’s quarters. “Elnor, can I get some advice on these Romulan high-ups?”

The door opened revealing the young Roman, a smudge of something dusty and black across his cheek.

“You’ve got a little,” she gestured to the mark.

“Oh!” Elnor licked his hand and wiped his cheek. “Better?”

It was worse. Raffi smiled and, secretly enjoying feeling a little like a mother, got a tissue from her pocket and wiped his face.

“Better!” She said hands on hips looking at her handywork. “Now what are you doing that’s making such a mess?”

“I’m practicing the art of Observational Truth, Raffi.” Her obviously blank look prompted him to beckon her into his quarters. “Part of the Qowat Milat training is being able to record the True Representations of things you experience.”

He crossed the room and picked up a heavy looking red leather journal. Raffi noticed the desk seemed to be littered with art materials, as far as she could guess.

Elnor handed her the book. Raffi was more than a little curious. She handed the Romulan dignitaries PADD to Elnor and turned her attention to the sketchbook instead. It looked like something out of a holonovel. All ragged edged paper and deep red stained leather. The cover had a deeply etched series of symbols she could only assume was something to do with his religious order. It looked Important.

“Do you mind?” She looked to him for permission to open the book.

“Of course not!” He seemed pleased by the request, “Part of the function of the True Representations are to help others understand the Observational Truth, that is, The Way Things Are.”

The first drawing she turned to was Agnes. Though there was something larger than life about this sketched version. Something in the curve of her back, the trust of her shoulders. She looked strong. Powerful. It wasn’t muscles or anything it was just… presence.

“I like this version of Doctor Jurati better than the old one.”

Raffi thumbed the ragged stump of a page torn loose.

“I destroyed the old version,” Elnor added quietly, noticing her gesture at the tear “I didn’t like how dark her eyes looked.”

Raffi turned the page, but it was a drawing of someone she didn’t know. Oh wait, hang on…JL? The sketch showed Picard; old, unsure, weak and not that she’d ever seen it for herself across those famous features before but… afraid?

“JL,” she couldn’t help mouthing.

It was awful. Well, she turned her head to one side and then another. Not truly _awful_ , she supposed. Just different. This was an old man. This wasn’t a captain or an admiral or a hero. This was just someone’s grampa, face lined with age, shoulders curved with resignation.

“It’s alright, Raffi,” Elnor said noticing the OPS officer’s look of worry, “this is from when Picard realised he didn’t have a crew anymore. He has since realised that he has a family instead. I could no longer draw him like this. It would be a mistruth now.”

The next page was some kind of Escher strangeness that made her eyes buzz. It was a drawing of Soji drawing Elnor…who was drawing Soji drawing Elnor and well the longer Raffi looked at the seemingly infinite regression of portraits the more it hurt her head.

“Yes,” Elnor considered the drawing, “that one got _difficult_ after awhile.” He absentmindedly traced the outline of Soji’s face with care.

_How about that?_ Thought Raffi. She decided to bring that up another time.

“Soji is an excellent and skilled draftsman, but her drawings only show what you can see. That isn’t the tradition of Qowat Milat art, we show the full Observational Truth.”

Raffi rotated the book to look at the next drawing, landscape, it showed herself and Cris; arms around each others shoulders, howling with laughter. She looked at the scant background details, this was the bar they’d visited last week. When Picard, after maybe one too many Saurian brandies, had said something unexpectedly scandalous about his time at the academy and both her and Cris had cried laughing at the thought of it.

It was a pretty good drawing, _way_ better than she could do of course, but there were a few things that didn’t seem right.

“I don’t look that young!” she pointed out, a little flattered.

“You do with him,” Elnor answered.

“Well that’s sweet, but Cris doesn’t laugh like that” she said looking at the deep creases at the side of his eyes, the hand at his stomach aching with laughter “he just sort of smirks, coolly.”

“You don’t notice how much he laughs because you’re always there laughing too.”

_Wow this kid was profound sometimes._

She turned the page and quickly took back her previous thought. There were studies of cats. Lots of studies of cats.

Big cats, fat cats, long cats, hairless cats. Lots and lots of cats… and at least one racoon that had snuck in presumably from some poorly categorised reference material.

There was one cat, wrought in exquisite life-like detail. A shocked looking feline with a tiny half moon of a tongue poking out of it’s mouth.

“Oh this is my favourite of all the cats I’ve researched.” He beamed.

“This cat was grooming itself. They do that with their _tongues_ ,” he added sagely “and then it was startled unexpectedly. This is a truly honest expression of surprise.” Elnor said, delighted, as if he was seeing it for the first time, “I enjoy this cat very much.”

Raffi grinned and with a hand on her hip considered the young man in front of her, “So how come you’ve been hiding these artistic talents of yours?”

“Oh I haven’t been hiding!” he looked genuinely hurt “It’s just part of my tradition.”

_Oh heck._ Raffi hadn’t meant to make the kid sad! _Don’t say things about hiding truth to the truth-nun Raffi,_ she made a mental note.

“So what’s next then?” She turned the page hoping to banish that kicked-puppy frown, “more surprised fur balls is it?”

Raffi turned the page and let out a soft gasp before she realised she’d done so.

It was Seven.

It was Seven, but _not_ Seven.

The expertly sketched version of the xB took her breath away. Soft waves of hair tumbling, framing her beautiful face and that smile, _oh god_ , that smile. Curling at the corner of those full lips, soft and carefree. Seven gazed tenderly off the edge page. Her brow, so often furrowed in sarcasm, or otherwise quirked in confusion or surprise, was relaxed and her eyebrows ever so slightly peaked, as if she’d just received some happy news.

“Elnor,” Raffi breathed, in awe at the skill taken to create art like this “this is beautiful.”

Raffi’s mind thought back to Seven’s indifferent expression this morning. Or any morning. This wasn’t drawn from life, that much she was sure of.

“But I thought you only drew ‘objective truth’? This is imaginary, Elnor,” she wiggled her fingers at the page “some kind of bizarro Seven.”

“Not at all Raffi, it would be dishonest of me to draw something that wasn’t real,” he pointed at the title of the piece, written in cursive Romulan, near the spine.

Raffi’s Romulan was rusty, but she was pretty sure that said “The woman in observance/reverie to her everything.”

“That’s Seven when she looks at you,”

Raffi swallowed.

_Excuse me, what?_

She opened her mouth again, and still couldn’t shepherd any words into a sentence.

Elnor looked rather proud of the effect his drawing had had, and continued describing enthusiastically.

“I think Seven looks all the more like _herself_ when I see her like that. If I’d ever met her as Annika, then that’s what she might look like.”

Raffi felt faint. Giddy. Embarrassed. Elated.

Was Elnor still talking? She wasn’t sure. What ever the young Romulan was saying faded away into nothing.

This was Seven looking at her? At her? That soft gaze, those gently almost parting lips were for her? She could feel her heart racing.

Elnor wouldn’t lie. Raffi wasn’t sure he even knew how.

“Erm, Elnor,” she finally looked up from the portrait “can I borrow this?”

* * *

“Cris. Cris! Open this door right now.” She tapped her foot impatiently outside his quarters. She heard some muffled conversation from within. _Whoops_ , she thought.

The door slid open with a low hiss.

“Raf, kind of busy,” his hair was ruffled, shirt rumpled.

Usually Raffi would slink away and let the poor guy have his private time, but she felt like her mind might explode if she didn’t share this book.

“Cris. Elnor can _draw_.” Raffi exclaimed brandishing the red journal.

Rio's eyebrow twitched. He looked like he was deciding whether to throw the book or his oldest friend, or both, out of an airlock.

“You got me out of bed to show me the kid's arts and crafts project?”

“Oh very glib Cris, just shut up and look at this.”

Raffi opened the book on the portrait of Seven.

“Shit,” Cris breathed.

Deciding that her captain wasn’t coming back to bed any time soon, Agnes padded over to the door, barefoot and wearing what must have been one of Cris’ old shirts. Starfleet soccer team grey. She wrapped her arms around Cris’ waist, partly because she was cold and partly because she felt more than a little underdressed to be stood by the open door.

The little doctor considered the drawing, eyes scanning expertly over the Romulan.

“Sorry, Raffi, I thought you knew?”

“What?” Cris and Raffi spoke in unison, eyes snapping to hers.

“I mean, it’s kind of obvious isn’t it?” she said softly.

“Is it?!” Raffi glared at Cris to stop taking the words out of her mouth.

“I thought there was something between the two of you before Freecloud,” Agnes shrugged. She was enjoying being nonchalant in front of these two. It was a rare feeling. She was going to make the most of it.

“You guys seemed close. I’ve seen how you look at her.”

Raffi felt her face flushing.

“But I’ve also seen how she looks at you and this is it,” she tapped the page “look how caring she looks-"

“All right, honey, you made your point!” Raffi cut her off, “I wish someone had told _me_ it was common knowledge.”

Agnes laughed, “Well what about this morning?”

“What about it?”

“I was in sickbay with Emil when you and Seven were getting coffee. You just ignored her and got really intense about smelling your drink.”

Raffi shot a pointed look at Cris before he could start laughing, “Don’t start, you didn’t notice either!”

“Honestly Raffi, you should probably try talking to her. I’m getting a little sick of Enoch asking me constantly for updates on the two of you.”

“Enoch?” Raffi asked incredulous.

“…and the rest.” Agnes added, trying and failing not to grin, “Emmett’s really holding out for the two of you. He’s such a sweetheart.”

_Sweetheart?_ Cris thought, wondering if she was thinking about the same tattooed hologram he was.

“Fine, since I seem to be the only one left out of the loop here, I’m going to go and do something about this.”

“Like what?” Rios asked

“I’m still figuring that bit out.”

Agnes chuckled.

“Ooh, one last thing!” Raffi added, she cheekily bit her tongue as she flicked through the book for the drawing of super-Agnes.

“So this is you,” she handed over the book “enjoy the caption!” Raffi grinned over her shoulder and hurried away.

Agnes silently translated the drawing’s title _“The strength he bestows on/in her. She rejects/banishes her old pain.”_

“What does it say?” Cris squinted at Elnor’s old fashioned Romulan script “Agnes?” He looked up to see the doctor half laughing, wiping her eyes on the baggy collar of his old shirt.

* * *

She marched in the direction of the bridge. _All this time! All these weeks! She’d been stealing glimpses at Seven and it turns out her feelings were reciprocated?_

_She was excited. She was nervous. She was… oh god, what was she doing?_

The closer she got to the bridge, the slower and less confident her steps became.

_What the hell was she expecting to do exactly?_

_“Hey Seven, a nun drew your portrait and I thought I’d let you know that I haven’t stopped thinking about you for weeks and…”_

_What the hell was she thinking? This wasn’t a plan. This was a reaction. She used to know better than this._

Approaching the bridge she could see the silhouette of the Captain’s chair against a stunning, billowing nebula. Fierce blues and electric magenta bled into more shades of violet that Raffi knew names for. The clouds of gas curling loosely around bright, distant points of light.

The silhouette moved. Seven’s form shifting at the conn, swinging her legs casually over the arm of the chair, heavy boots swaying her legs gently like a pendulum.

As Raffi approached the bridge, Seven looked up from the holo-controls and smiled.

_Was that it? Was that the smile?_ Raffi wasn’t sure.

“Seven I,” Raffi had never felt so ridiculous in her life “I wanted to,”

She coughed to clear her throat.

“I’m an idiot,” _strong start_ she congratulated herself “I thought, maybe you made a mistake, when we,” she gestured lamely to the mess.

_Excellent Raffi, good recovery._

Seven’s interest was clearly piqued though. With a practiced gesture she slickly closed a data scan and stood from her chair.

_Shit_.

“I mean, not a mistake exactly, but that maybe you didn’t feel how I thought you did.” She swallowed,“Or didn’t want what I, I mean,”

Seven looked as calm and unflustered as ever, a smile creeping at the corner of her mouth. She stepped towards Raffi.

The air between them felt charged. _This was it._ This was what she’d felt that day in the mess, their hands… her eyes.

“I was, concerned, that you thought it might be rather sudden?” Seven’s low voice sending a shudder through her, “I decided it would be best to leave the ball in your court, as it were.”

“Don’t do that, I’m an idiot,” _Raffi for the love of god stop telling this gorgeous woman you’re an idiot_ “I was waiting for you to, to, er, to make a move…” she trailed off.

“Well in that case,” Seven purred, leaning down to the holo controls and gently twisting something, “I will.”

La Sirena eased to port, the giant window flooding the room with sparkling purple, as the bright star furnace at the centre of the nebula threw its light across the decks and across their skin.

_Unacceptably cool_ thought Raffi.

Seven stepped closer, gaze wandering slowly, savouring Raffi’s star lit form, her hair like a halo.

Raffi could feel her heart racing. _This was it. Except not even in her coffee daydreams was she on the bridge in starlight and,_ her mind went blank as Seven’s hands found her waist.

Emboldened, she reached her hands tenderly to Seven’s face, and dipped her head closer. Pausing just before their lips met, cautiously meeting Seven’s gaze as if asking permission.

Seven closed the distance between them. The taste of her coffee lingering in her kiss.

Bitter, warm, silky. Raffi felt herself relaxing into Seven’s embrace, nervousness forgotten she snaked a hand into Seven’s hair to draw them closer.

Sighing contentedly Seven pulled away, eyes fluttered open, she smiled at Raffi.

_Oh wait._

Those lips, soft, gentle. Her eyes searching, honest.

A smile that softened her gaze. Without expectation. Without hesitation.

_There it is._

_Just like an artwork._

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to Thimblerig who wrote a Romulan translation with the either/or in it, _“The affair/turmoil is ended. Release your encumbrance.”_ which was too good an idea not to borrow!
> 
> Hoping "soccer" was the right word to use given Starfleet Academy is in San Francisco?
> 
> Thanks for reading :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[PODFIC] Observational Truth, by Regionalpancake](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23941441) by [Thimblerig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thimblerig/pseuds/Thimblerig)




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